


Adventures in Housesitting

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-15
Updated: 2000-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A favour. A find. A fantasy.





	Adventures in Housesitting

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Adventures in Housesitting by m. butterfly

Adventures in Housesitting (1/1)  
by m. butterfly  
  
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex, language  
Category: M/Sk  
Spoilers: none  
Archive: Sure--just keep "as is," please  
Summary: A favour. A find. A fantasy.   
Author's notes: This story is part of my "Resuscitation" universe, and is set at the same time as a story I wrote last year (!) called "Wishes," available at my website: http://Skinner.Mulder.com/walfox  
Acknowledgments: Love and thanks to Elizabeth Gerber, treasured webmistress and brilliant author, for her encouragement and superb beta services. Any post-beta boo-boos are mine and mine alone.  
Dedication: This is a belated birthday story for my dear friend Kiyoko, who shares her birthday with a certain Walter Skinner. I hope you enjoy this, Kiyoko.  
Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner and Dana Scully are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting; Fox also owns Bart Simpson and Seymour Skinner. No copyright infringement is intended, and no middle-aged freelance writers are profiting financially.

* * *

Adventures in Housesitting (1/1)  
by m. butterfly

Crystal City, VA  
Thursday, June 3, 1999

She'd been to Mulder's apartment--his *old* apartment--dozens of times on her own. To find things. To hide things. Basically, to help out her partner. And never thought anything of it.

But this was different. This was *their* place: Skinner's and, now, his. And it felt a little, well, *weird* letting herself in, punching in their passcode to disarm the security system.

Scully hadn't minded being asked, though. Deep down, she was pleased that Skinner seemed to trust her as much as Mulder did. Anyway, it wasn't like she had anything better to do after work on a pleasant spring day.

Dumping her suit jacket and bag on the armchair, she carried her Chinese take-out into the kitchen and helped herself to some juice from the well-stocked fridge. On the calendar hanging beside it, someone--Mulder, judging from the chicken scratch--had circled today's date and written "Seymour (47)" in red marker. He'd even drawn a little heart. *This* Mulder was nothing like the man she'd worked with for the past six years. Or maybe she just hadn't looked close enough...

Pushing those thoughts aside, she sat down and did the Post crossword puzzle while she ate. Less than half an hour later, the kitchen was tidy and the houseplants watered. Finally, she sauntered over to the aquarium.

"Hello, little fishies. Supper time."

One, two, three, four. Hopefully, they'd all survive by the time their owners returned from vacation. Scully'd always had pretty good luck with fish, which was a lot more than she could say for Mulder. She sprinkled some food onto the water and watched the tiny creatures swim eagerly to the surface.

There. Mission accomplished. She could go now.

She *should* go now.

But, instead of making her way to the door, she stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked up at the second floor. She'd never seen it before. And why should she? All that was up there was a linen closet and another bathroom. Oh, yeah. And the master bedroom. Where her partner and her boss slept.

Had sex.

*Fucked*.

She'd often wondered about that room. Was it neat and orderly like the rest of the condo? Or had Mulder thoroughly corrupted Skinner and turned it into a carbon copy of his old bedroom at Hegel Place?

And what about the bed? How big was it? What kind?

It was none of her damned business. That's what she told herself as she slipped out of her pumps and walked swiftly up the stairs.

One little look-see. What could *that* hurt? She'd just peek in from the hall and then be on her way.

The bed was definitely a king--no surprise there--but she couldn't tell what kind it was simply by looking at it. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room, placed her right palm flat against the closest corner of the mattress, and pressed.

Nope. Not a waterbed. And that was good, if Mulder and Skinner had indeed destroyed the one at Mulder's apartment, as he'd so proudly claimed.

Smiling, Scully straightened and let her gaze drift. Her smile broadened when she spotted the TV and VCR sitting on the dresser across from the foot of the bed.

Ah. Mulder's influence.

Deciding which side of the room and the bed were Mulder's was a no-brainer. The framed photographs--one of him and Samantha, one of his sister alone--were the most obvious clues, followed closely by the magazines and books that occupied nearly every surface.

There was a tiny photo on Skinner's pristine bedside table that Scully couldn't see from where she was standing, so she opted for a closer look. Not daring to disturb it, she crouched down until she was eye level with the small frame.

"Awwww."

There was no doubt in her mind that the picture had been taken in one of those instant photo booths. It was a head-and-shoulders shot of the two men. They were kissing. She'd bet a week's salary they'd had it taken during their holiday in Key West last December.

Sighing, she stood up. God, they were adorable. So in love. And unexpectedly good for each other. She didn't want to think about what the two of them were likely to be doing in Provincetown right now. Not when she had an empty apartment to go home to.

As she turned to leave, Scully noticed a small stack of videotapes on the TV. The "Empire Strikes Back"--had to be Mulder's. Likewise "Alien Autopsy II." "The Dirty Dozen"--Skinner's, for sure. "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert?" Probably a recent addition to the Skinner-Mulder collection. Maybe she would borrow it. Why not? Watch it tonight, and bring it back in a couple of days. She was certain they wouldn't mind. They wouldn't even know unless she told them.

She reached for the tape, which was (of course) at the bottom of the pile. On top was the alien thing, but the box was empty. She looked closely at the VCR and, sure enough, a tape was in it. Scully shook her head, tendrils from her sleek red bob brushing her cheeks. She could just imagine Assistant Director Walter Skinner, propped up against the wooden headboard, watching grainy footage of a bunch of bad actors cutting up a rubber mannequin. The look on that stern face would be priceless.

Actually, she'd never watched AAII. How different could it be from AAI? Well, there was only one way to find out. After turning on the TV, she grabbed the remote, sat on the end of the bed, and pushed the VCR's power button, then "play."

Nothing.

Oh, the VCR worked, all right. But all it was showing was a blank, blue screen, so Scully pressed "rewind." The machine began to hum and, a couple of minutes later, the tape was cued up to the beginning.

"This ought to be good," she chuckled.

What Scully expected was bad music, cheesy effects, and a wooden host from the Jonathan Frakes school of narration. The *last* thing she expected was Walter Skinner, in a blue terry bathrobe, scowling directly into the camera.

<\--said, turn that fucking thing off!>

The scowl deepened, and his expansive palm suddenly filled the screen, covering the lens.

The next thing Scully saw was an unsteady shot of the bed from the side, with the covers pulled back. She could hear Mulder's voice, husky and deeper than usual.

<\--*liked* the idea before.>

<Well, I've changed my mind.>

The picture stopped jerking, and Mulder came into view, obviously from behind the camera.

He was nude.

"Oh, God!" She'd seen her partner naked before, when he'd been ill and injured. In this case, he appeared to be neither. In fact, since there was no gun in his pocket (because there was no *pocket*), she could see that he was healthy, whole, and pretty damned happy to see someone. 

<Walter, come on. Come here.> Mulder backed into the picture, pulling a reluctant Skinner by the hand.

Skinner was still glaring, but obviously weakening. <If Frohike knew what you had in mind when you asked to borrow his camcorder, I don't think he would have--Oh, fuck! Who am I kidding? He probably gave you the idea in the first place.>

Mulder sat along the edge of the bed, pulling Skinner down with him. He took the older man's face in his hands. <Please? It'll be fun. I promise.>

<Fox, it's too damned dangerous! If anyone else but us should see this...>

Scully lowered her head, but kept her eyes glued to the television.

<We'll be careful! We'll keep it well-hidden. And cleverly disguised.>

<These things invariably have a way of falling into the wrong hands.>

<*This* one won't. I swear, Walter! No one else will ever see. Just us.>

Scully almost felt guilty enough to turn it off. Almost.

<I dunno, Fox...>

<Please? It'll be hot. When I'm not around, you'll be really glad we made it.>

Still holding Skinner's face, Mulder leaned in and kissed him enthusiastically. At the same time, he dropped his hands to Skinner's waist and undid the belt of his robe.

"I shouldn't be watching this," Scully told no one in particular. She covered her eyes, but was soon squinting between her splayed fingers the way she did when she watched a really scary movie.

<Mmmfox,> Skinner mumbled around Mulder's tongue as the robe was eased down his shoulders.

"Shouldn't."

Despite his misgivings, Skinner was getting into it. He let himself be pushed back onto the bed, pulling Mulder down with him and kissing him back with equal verve. Supporting himself with his arms, Mulder covered Skinner's body with his own and rocked his hips lazily. The dimple in his right butt cheek deepened with every forward lunge.

Damning herself for noticing, Scully grabbed fistfuls of the dark comforter and began to rise. It was bad enough to be invading her partner's privacy. But her *boss's* too? That was beyond the limit. How could she face him at work if she kept watching? No, it wasn't right. She had to get up now--*right* now--and turn off the VCR.

By this point, Skinner had rolled on top so Mulder could slide the bathrobe all the way off. Now it was Skinner's turn to grind himself into Mulder as the younger man ran his hands all over his lover's strong, smooth back and perfect ass. With a small grunt, Mulder manoeuvred them back to their original position. They'd never stopped kissing.

Scully was genuinely awed by Skinner's body. It was more spectacular than she'd ever imagined. Fabulous musculature. Taut, youthful skin. The perfect amount of hair. And exquisitely proportioned. No wonder Mulder walked around with his eyes glazed over half the time.

<Walter,> Mulder panted, finally backing off. <I wanna suck you so bad...>

"Sweet Jesus!" Scully wailed, settling back down on the bed. The *same* bed that was on the screen in front of her. The same bed on which her best friend was positioning another man like he was directing a porno film.

When Mulder was satisfied with the way he had his star performer arranged--lying across the width of the mattress on his back, legs hanging over the edge--he faced the camera and straddled Skinner's head. Mulder was sporting a fine erection at this point.

<Nice view,> Skinner told him earnestly. Scully could only see the underside of the big man's chin and nose. And his balls--in all their plump, ripening glory.

<It's not so bad from up here, either,> Mulder replied, staring down at Skinner's crotch, the camera all but forgotten. <You are *so* fucking beautiful.>

Skinner snorted. <You could do better.>

Mulder snorted back. <Not in *this* lifetime. I love you, Walter.> He leaned over, planted his left hand on the bed beside Skinner's left hip, and took Skinner's impressive hard-on in his right hand.

Scully gasped along with Skinner as Mulder stroked the cockhead with his tongue, then drew it into his mouth.

<I--oh, God! Love you too, baby! Love when you do that.>

Palms against Mulder's sides, Skinner lifted his head from the pillow that had been so carefully placed under it, and began lapping at the testicles swaying seductively above him.

Mulder sighed happily and swallowed some more of Skinner's cock.

Then Skinner did something to Mulder's ass--parted his cheeks, Scully guessed--and pulled him down until he was sitting on Skinner's face. 

Scully whimpered and undid the top two buttons of her blouse.

The two men went at it for several slurpy, moaning minutes before Skinner broke away. <Fox. Fox! You keep sucking hard like that and you're gonna have one *very* short tape here.>

Reluctantly, Mulder stopped. <There's something else I wanna do now anyway.>

<Oh?>

With a parting kiss to the tip of Skinner's erection, Mulder climbed off both his man and the bed, and rolled Skinner onto his stomach. <Okay, Walter. On your knees, and spread 'em wide.>

<Uh, I don't think so.>

Mulder kneaded the firm mounds of flesh, then bent to run his tongue along the crease where thigh met buttock.

Scully's hand remained in the vee of her blouse, fluttering against her heated, soft skin in time to her rapidly increasing heartbeat. 

<Walter,> Mulder mumbled into Skinner's hip, <if you don't point that fine, fuckable ass of yours into the air, how do you expect to get anything into it?>

The celluloid groan was accompanied by a live one.

<Don't make me live to regret this, boy,> Skinner warned as he assumed the requested position.

<Trust me. Uh, just a sec.> And Mulder was gone.

<*Now* what are you doing?>

The camera began to zoom in.

Scully squeaked.

<Mr. DeMille says it's time for your close-up, Miss Desmond,> he droned in a bad German accent.

Skinner raised his head. <Of what? My *asshole*? For God's sake, Fox! I don't want to see *that*!>

<Well, *I* do. And I want you to see what *I* see. How unbelievably gorgeous you are.>

<Stop it!> But Scully could hear the smile in Skinner's voice.

Mulder's index finger snaked into the shot. <I wish I could get in even tighter,> he nearly whispered, lightly stroking Skinner's anus.

<You're--ahhhhhh--you're a sick, sick man.>

<Uh-huh.> The long finger disappeared, there was a loud smacking sound, and then it was back, all wet and shiny. <Feel better?>

<Oooo, yeah.>

<You're gonna like *this* even more.>

Mulder's profile came into view, and Scully's eyes bulged as he stuck out his tongue out and swiped at Skinner's dusky pucker.

<God, that's so good,> Skinner purred.

The gentle rimming continued for another--what? Thirty seconds? Two minutes? Scully was too absorbed to acknowledge anything as mundane as time.

Skinner began to writhe, trying to push himself into Mulder's face. <More. Come on, damnit!>

Mulder adjusted himself so that he sat squarely between Skinner's legs. The back of his head nearly filled the screen. <Tell me what you want.>

<You. Your tongue...>

<What about my tongue?>

<I want you to fuck me with it.>

Scully wasn't surprised that Mulder liked to talk dirty in bed. But *Skinner*? The things she was learning about these men...and herself, for that matter...

Mulder pressed forward, and Scully knew *exactly* what he was doing. But she felt a sharp stab of disappointment that she couldn't see it. Her blouse completely unbuttoned now, she cupped her breasts, squeezing them in sync with Skinner's cries of pleasure.

"Move your damned head, Mulder!" she muttered darkly, then couldn't believe her eyes when he actually *did*. She heard Skinner complain, then Mulder say something about getting lube. But most of her attention was focused on Skinner's anus. It was glistening, dripping with Mulder's saliva, and didn't look quite so clenched as it had earlier. Nevertheless, it was such a *tiny* thing, and Mulder was anything but.

<Fox,> Skinner panted, <do you really need to tape this part?>

Mulder's finger, coated with shiny gel, circled Skinner's opening. <The way you look when I open you up--it's incredible. Yes, I need to tape this.>

The finger zeroed in on its target and--presto!--disappeared up to the second knuckle, producing a grunt from both Skinner and Scully.

<Tell the truth, Walter.> With a little push, the digit was all the way in. <The idea of watching yourself being finger-fucked by me turns you on, right?>

If the noise Skinner made wasn't a confirmation, Scully didn't *know* what was. As Mulder did the nasty with his finger, she slipped her right hand into the left cup of her bra and stroked the warm nipple until it hardened.

Now Mulder was using two fingers, sometimes scissoring them while twisting his wrist. With his free hand, he fondled Skinner's balls. And, to make things *really* interesting, he began peppering Skinner's closest cheek with love bites, followed by soothing kisses.

<'M ready, Fox. Don't need> pant <'nother finger.>

<You sure?>

<Uh-huh.>

When Mulder withdrew his fingers, Scully was amazed at how much Skinner'd been stretched, and how he stayed open.

Mulder spoke from off-camera as he fiddled with the lens, widening the shot. <How're your knees, Walter? Your back?>

<Fine.> pant <Why?>

The demented director padded back into view, patted Skinner's tailbone. <I wanna fuck you like this.>

Dear Mother of God. They were really going to do it. Have sex. *Anal* sex.

<Fine. Fine. Whatever. Less talking and more doing would be good.>

Her partner was going to fuck their boss.

And she was going to watch.

Mulder's hand travelled down to his lover's shoulder. <But I want a profile shot, so we get everything on tape: me sliding in and out of you, you shooting in my hand. Oh--make sure you face the camera. You look so amazing when you come.>

Legs shaky, Skinner let Mulder help turn him 90 degrees, but remained in the same position, with his head resting on folded arms. <I can't believe I ever let you talk me into this.>

"Me neither." Scully's fingers glided down her silky midriff and began to open the fly of her conservative suit trousers.

<You'll thank me later,> Mulder quipped as he kneeled behind Skinner. <Some night, when you're all horned up, and I'm off in, oh, Boise or Syracuse or Jacksonville--> He grabbed the tube of Astroglide and slathered the slick gel all over his erection. <\--you'll be-->

<Yeah, yeah. I'll be grateful I live with such a genius.>

<That's right.> He guided his cock, placing it between Skinner's muscular buttocks. <A genius who loves you. Very much.>

<Look, I love you too. Very much. But if you don't start fucking me right now, I'm going to kill you, genius or no.>

<Okay. Take a deep breath, babe,> Mulder instructed, then tilted his pelvis. The instant the tight little ring of muscle accepted him, he moved his hands to Skinner's hips for leverage and pushed again, harder this time.

<Ooooof,> they yelped in unison.

<You okay, Walter?>

<Jesus, yes! I am *so* ready for this...>

So was Scully. She leaned back on her left elbow and slid her right hand into her panties to discover she was wet. *Very* wet. After a few cautious caresses of her swollen labia, she inserted a finger into the slippery vagina just as Mulder pushed back into Skinner. She matched Mulder, thrust for leisurely thrust, her eyes darting back and forth between Mulder's cock and Skinner's. She licked her dry lips.

When Mulder picked up the pace--and Skinner's erection--Scully's well-lubricated fingers returned to her clitoris, now dangerously sensitive. She rubbed lightly yet briskly while Mulder used short strokes to pound into Skinner, simultaneously pumping the older man's cock with a practised hand. He ran his thumb effortlessly over the crown, which Scully noticed was glossy and a deep reddish-purple.

<W-walter?>

<Yes! *Yes*!>

With lusty shouts of "Fox" and a few colourful curses, Skinner came violently, his semen squirting between and over Mulder's fingers. Mulder was right behind him, throwing his head back and howling Skinner's name over and over.

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" was the best that Scully could come up with as *she* climaxed.

Half-dazed, she watched Mulder collapse over Skinner's sturdy back and kiss the nape of his lover's neck. Without breaking their connection, he gently eased them down onto the bed, spoon-style, Skinner winding up in front and facing the camera. His eyes were closed, and he was wearing a smug little smile. Scully'd never seen him look so relaxed. Or so good.

She couldn't see much of Mulder. Just his right arm, draped around the big body, the cum-splattered hand resting against Skinner's lower belly, just above the deflated cock. She removed her hand from her panties, sat up, and hugged herself.

<Don't get too comfortable, Bart,> Skinner rumbled. <Unless you want exciting footage of us sleeping.>

<Nah. Gotta save room on the tape for the next time.>

Skinner's eyes popped open in alarm. <There isn't gonna *be* a 'next time.'>

A dark head popped up over Skinner's shoulder. <No fair! Don't you want to know how it looks when you top me?>

He shut his eyes again. <Nope.>

<Liar.>

<Am not. It's just that doing it twice was never part of the deal.>

<There was no 'deal.'>

<Yes there was, Fox, and I lived up to my end of it.> He smirked. <So to speak.>

Mulder nipped playfully at Skinner's earlobe. <Come on, Seymour,> he teased, wiping his hand on the hairy chest as though it were a towel. <You need a bath.>

In the blink of an eye, Skinner had Mulder pinned beneath him, squirming and laughing, as he shared the fruit of their coupling. <Yeah, well, so do you. But the camera stays *here*. Got it?>

<You're no fun.>

Still holding Mulder's wrists, Skinner buried his face in the younger man's neck and gave him a noisy raspberry that produced a hail of un-Mulder-like giggles. Finally, he let go of Mulder's wrists, got out of bed, and walked off screen.

<I'll start the tub, you shut down production,> Scully heard him call.

<All right, all right,> Mulder grumbled half-heartedly, then dragged himself to his feet and headed toward the lens. <Are you sure I can't persuade--?>

The screen suddenly went blue.

Scully pointed the remote at the VCR and stopped the tape, then turned off the machine. "Oh, God." Her voice practically echoed in the now all-too-quiet room. Struggling to her feet, she caught her reflection in the bureau mirror--blouse open and sliding off one shoulder, pants open and down around her hips, eyes just a little wild--and grimaced. She was a mess. She also needed to pee.

She was careful to leave the large second-floor bathroom the same way she found it, remembering at the last minute to put the toilet seat back up. After washing her hands, she wiped them on a couple of tissues, which she then dabbed against her flushed face and neck. Instead of throwing the used Kleenex in the garbage, she tucked them between her breasts before buttoning and zipping up.

Back in the bedroom, she turned off the TV and straightened the bed.

There.

They'd never even know she'd been up here.

With one last wistful look, she headed downstairs, slipped into her shoes, and grabbed her jacket and bag.

"G'night, fish," she called softly. The sun was setting, infusing the main floor with a gentle pinkish glow. She looked toward the window, and the light must have been brighter than she'd realized, because her eyes were stinging. Just a little.

She blinked and let her gaze drift to the top of the staircase.

"Happy Birthday, Walter," she whispered.

The door closed quietly behind her.

Fini  
June 11, 2000


End file.
